


I'm No Gentleman

by dynamicmorning



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Minor Original Character(s), Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dynamicmorning/pseuds/dynamicmorning
Summary: “I don’t have very many talents, I’ll say that up front. I’m not smart and I’m not pretending to be either. I’m definitely not a gentleman. The one thing I can do though, is hurt."--a pre-game Gonta character study





	I'm No Gentleman

Gonta had never liked bugs. They had too many legs, or wings, and sometimes hair, which had no business being on something so crawly. It was hard to tell which was worse, the bugs that could fly at you from nowhere or the ones that looked fine until they  _ jumped _ . One time in the third grade a kid had dropped a caterpillar down his shirt, and he ran and screamed long after it had been shaken out. Every day for the following week he imagined he could feel its phantom wriggling beneath his clothes, putting him on edge. No, the world would be better off without them all.

He thought all this as he idly watched a moth dart around the ceiling of the classroom, traveling from light to light. Every time it approached one of the lights, it would tap gently with its body before escalating to heavier slams. After a few rounds of this it grew disappointed and moved on to the next one to begin the assault anew. Gonta hated it. He hated it's pointless and repetitive behavior and he hated the sound of wings fluttering punctuated by soft  _ thunk _ s. It was just large enough to draw attention even when he tried to focus on anything else.

There were only two minutes left in the period before class ended for the day. There was no point listening to the teacher this close to the end, even though Gonta never paid attention in class anyway. Besides, he had Daisuke to take notes on anything important and to handle his homework. A quick glance at the boy revealed that he was doing his job, albeit with that scared look he always wore on his face. He peeked up to see Gonta looking at him, and swiftly averted his gaze while stiffening up. The boy had nothing to worry about, he wouldn’t be beaten up as long as he did as he was told.

The bell rang. Mr. Adachi ended his lecture, and Daisuke began shoving his books into his bag in an attempt to leave as quickly as possible. Gonta took his time, sparing one last look at that damned moth, and prepared to meet up with his friends outside the school. He was almost out the door when a voice caught him unawares. “Gokuhara, a minute please.”

Gonta turned around. Mr. Adachi stood up from his desk, looking stern and carrying several papers. “We need to have a talk about your performance in my class.”

“God, can it wait? I don’t have time for this crap.”

“No, Gokuhara, there will be more time for you to cause some trouble with your friends later. Please, just listen to me.”

Gonta sighed and walked back into the room. He made a point of throwing his bag several feet away on the floor and sat up on one of the desks. “Alright, alright. What’s the deal.”

Mr. Adachi sighed and handed Gonta the first set of papers. “These are your homework assignments from the last two months. Or rather, what you’ve been turning in as your homework. You’ll notice,” he said as he handed over the second half of the papers, “that the answers are identical to Daisuke Ito’s. Even the long form answers are the same sentences but phrased differently.”

Gonta shrugged. “What can I say, we’re good friends.”

“You’ve failed four classes so far, and your grades in the rest are nothing special. At the rate you’re progressing, one more failure and you’ll be held back a year. Though now that I see this new strategy of yours, you’ll probably end up expelled.”

“Expelled?” His shoulders tightened. Silence hung in the air, marred only by the  _ thunk thunk _ of the moth. “You… you can’t do that. I’ve got to graduate, I need a diploma, even if it sucks, I need one to get a proper job, to support my mom, you can’t do this to me, you-”

“I don’t want to do this to you, Gokuhara,” he said in a reassuring voice. “I’ve checked with your other teachers and you haven’t tried this with anyone else. Plagiarism is a serious offense, why only try it here?”

“I…” Gonta looked at the door, made sure no one was there to hear. “I know I can’t afford to fail another class. I can’t be stuck here forever, I’ve gotta get a job. Mom can barely support us on her own, and hell, I don’t even like her that much, but we don’t have an easy way to eat every week. I should be out there, doing something, instead of trying to be good at math and lit and history and other shit that doesn’t matter.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve considered just dropping out. But you can’t find a place that pays more than peanuts without a high school diploma. It’s not even a big jump or anything, but I just want to finish  _ something _ . And now you’re gonna kick me out because I was so bad at your history class that I made Daisuke do my homework. There. You happy?”

The two men sat in silence for a minute. Then, Mr. Adachi took the replicated papers back from Gonta and locked them in his desk drawer. “Let me make one thing clear,” he began, “I’m not excusing your behavior. But if you can show me you’re willing to try, I can give you a second chance. There are two conditions.”

“Yeah? I’ll do it, whatever it takes.”

“First, consider all these assignments late. You can make them up in your own words before the year is up for partial credit, but you must do them all and you must do them yourself.”

“Got it.” Gonta had no idea when he’d have time to do them, much less learn the material, but it was a start. “And second?”

“I’ve seen you and your friends in the school yard. You talk a lot of talk, and you hurt a lot of people. But I think you can change, if you honestly try. And that’s what I want you to do: for one whole week, no fights. No bullying, no destruction. Show me that you can be a gentleman. Can you do that?”

“What…” He gulped. “I don’t have to kiss people’s hands and call them ‘milady’ or anything do I?”

Mr. Adachi laughed. “No, nothing quite like that. Just try and stay out of trouble, and do one good deed. We’ll start there and talk at the end of the week.”

“And then I won’t be expelled.”

“And then you won’t be expelled. But don’t forget the homework too.”

“Right. Okay. I’ll try.” Gonta slid off the desk, and walked sheepishly to the other side of the room where he had tossed his bag. “And, um, thank you.”

Jun and Ritsuo were standing outside the school as planned, smoking cigarettes and waiting for Gonta. Upon seeing him, Ritsuo flicked the remains of his cigarette to the ground and smushed it beneath his shoe. “Hey man, took you long enough. Want a light?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Gonta replied, not sure if smoking counted as getting into trouble. He recognized that this was his only chance to avoid being held back or expelled, and wasn’t about to risk it now. “Teach wanted to talk. Said my grades weren’t good enough and I’d have to step it up.”

“What, is that guy Daisuke not doing a good enough job?” Jun asked, cracking his knuckles. “We can do something about that easy. ‘Sbeen ages since I saw that scared look on his face. What do you say, tomorrow morning? We can catch him before homeroom.”

“No! No, I, uh, that’s not the problem.” Gonta coughed. “Daisuke’s fine. I think I’m just gonna go home tonight, actually.” The best way to stay out of trouble might be to avoid people entirely, perhaps. It would certainly eliminate any temptation his friends would provide.

“Feeling sick?”

“No, I just, I have to go.” And he kept walking in the direction of home, trying not to walk too fast or too slow but knowing that he had already aroused suspicion anyway.

 

“You’re home early,” his mother said, coming through the door. “How long have you been back?”

“Two hours, maybe. How was the supermarket?”

“It was the drugstore today,” she said, taking off her shoes and coat. “Either way I’m standing 5 hours behind a cash register. Did you cook?”

“Yeah,” Gonta said from the couch he had sprawled out on, barely fitting on its cushion. “There’s some soup heating up on the burner whenever you’re ready. I already had some.”

“Thanks, it saves me the trouble. How was school?”

“Don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Alright.”

His mother ate in silence in the kitchen and Gonta stayed on the couch, thinking about everything and nothing all at once. He could have fallen asleep were it not for the faint sounds of water running and dishes being put away, followed by the click of the television as it turned on. She sat in the old armchair next to the couch, idly flipping through channels.

“Hey mom. Uh, what’s a gentleman like?”

She paused, leaving the screen on some commercial, and turned down the volume. “Well, nothing like your father, for one thing.”

“Just because he left?”

“Not just because of that. He broke a promise. He swore up and down that he was going to be the perfect dad, and had all these dreams of our future together. He had me going right up until the end. I felt that first contraction hit and he said he was stepping out to call a cab to the hospital. Should have known there that he was piling his stuff in his car and driving away for good. After all, he could have just driven me himself.” They sat and let the long repeated story hang in the air while a muted woman gave a testimony for laundry detergent. “Commit to your promises, Gonta. That’s all I can really offer you.”

Gonta knew to expect something like that, and grunted in thanks. He did want to keep this promise, but the problem was figuring out how.

The television returned to its main program with a sudden flash of pink. On the screen was a corpse with a sword sticking through the throat, gushing blood in an uncomfortable closeup. The blood of course was digitally edited to be a bright shade of pink, both for the sake of the ratings and as some sort of legacy joke. The camera zoomed out slowly while a distorted choir howled in the background, revealing more of the woman’s lifeless body. “Such a shame.”

“Which one was she again?” Gonta asked. He didn’t actively watch Danganronpa, but whenever his mother had it on he would sit and watch.

“The Ultimate Architect. I liked her.”

The rest of the characters trickled into the room, reacting as they always did, with a mixture of shock, horror, and suspicion. It looked like this week was going to be investigation week, with the usual two-night trial special coming the next week. The chosen protagonist this time around made some speech about how he would to explore every nook and cranny in the whole school if it meant finding the truth and ending the killings. Gonta wondered if he had dyed his hair green before filming or if the producers had done it to make him more recognizable, and then Gonta wondered why he was thinking about this at all. With perfect timing, his mother remarked “I like the protagonist this time too. He’s a real pretty boy.”

“Mom, don’t say stuff like that.”

“Where are my manners. You’re prettier than him, of course.”

“Shut up,” he said, but with a small smile. They didn’t bond often, or even talk, but it was moments like these that brought them together. All it took was a backdrop of teenage violence to drown out the reality of the outside world.

 

He showed up to school early the next morning, mostly so people wouldn’t have to see him come in. For all the thinking he had done about being a better person yesterday afternoon (even if it hadn’t amounted to much in the end), he hadn’t actually started any of his homework. Like it or not, that would have to get done eventually. That was how he found himself at the doors of the library, unsure if he was even allowed inside.

There weren’t any alarms and nobody stopped him, which Gonta supposed was a good sign. A handful of people were already seated at various tables and desks, working on homework or studying in advance. These were all the kind of people who came to the school library early on a daily basis, and probably not just for making up an entire semester’s worth of work. There were mixed reactions among those who noticed him enter, from whispers to friends to trying to hide in the books, wondering what could have possibly brought  _ him _ there. Trying not to make himself too noticeable, Gonta made his way over to what looked like the history section and slung his bag down at an empty desk.

Somewhere in the mess of his bag was a crumpled up list of assignments from the start of the year, and digging it out now would only make a mess and draw more attention. Maybe just reading the class textbook would be a good place to start. Of course, he hadn’t actually bought a copy, both because he didn’t have the money and because he didn’t give a shit. Thankfully the library had spares.

Gonta settled in with his book, which frankly had no right being over 1,000 pages. He tried flipping through to find something familiar he could start with, but none of it looked familiar at all, so he resigned to starting from the beginning. This was going to be miserable. A few minutes passed and Gonta groaned, remembering why he hated this stuff in the first place. Academics were so damn  _ inaccessible _ .

“Um, Gokuhara? Sir?” Standing a good eight feet away was Daisuke, curious yet afraid to get too close. He spoke in a raised whisper, loud enough to be heard yet not enough to disturb the rest of the library. “I-is everything okay?”

Gonta scoffed. “What, can’t a guy  _ study _ in peace?”

“W, well, I was wondering if the homework wasn’t good enough, or if you needed better notes, or…” He trailed off as he actually noticed the book on the table. “Gokuhara, are you… studying for Mr. Adachi’s class?”

“Isn’t that what it looks like?”

“Well, it’s just that…” Daisuke took a few tentative steps closer. “That’s the book for next year’s history course. Ours is the green edition, not the red.”

Gonta cursed and slammed the book shut. “No wonder none of this makes any sense.”

“If you want, I can get the book from the shelf for you… and I can give you the notes I’ve been taking all year. You,” Daisuke chuckled, then caught himself, “haven’t actually picked them up from me.”

“Shit… yeah, that would, be great.” Gonta sighed. “I’m, uh, trying to catch up on my work for this class. Do the homework myself and all. But only this class. Yeah.” He handed the book to Daisuke and ran his hands through his hair, a habit he was prone to when stressed. “So, don’t do any of that stuff for me anymore. I can do it myself.”  _ If you can even get the right textbook, idiot _ .

Daisuke paused, and left to exchange the book. All Gonta could think about was how far he had fallen, how everyone had to be judging him, how even  _ Daisuke _ had to be judging him, how much of an idiot he was for thinking he could be anything different. And then Daisuke came back, book and backpack in one hand and dragging a library chair in the other. “If you’re going to catch up on everything yourself, I should show you what order these notes are in, and how to read the shorthand and color codes. That is, if you don’t mind?”

“You… color coded it? For me?”

“Haha, not actually. I started out just writing everything twice, but then you never picked them up, so I just started making photocopies of my notes to have on hand. And I, uh, keep things pretty organized.”

“Ah. Okay. So, where do we start?” Daisuke’s eyes lit up at the word  _ we _ and Gonta instantly regretted it. However, he listened to the boy rattle off information about his color codes and noticed that the both of them seemed to be relaxing. Perhaps he could still be useful, moreso in his element than shaking with fear. And there was something to be said for the fact that they were talking at all without Gonta’s fist in Daisuke’s face. Praying that nobody would see them together, he let himself listen and felt that maybe he could make progress after all.

 

The next two days went by strangely yet similarly. Gonta made it to school early enough to sneak into the library and tried to work his way through the history textbook. Daisuke would come in a short while later, pull up a chair, and explain in simpler terms everything the book was trying to say. He would also point out where to find condensed versions in his notes, which Gonta referred to as the TLDR version. It turned out that the seat he had initially chosen was where Daisuke sat every day in the library, so they were bound to run into each other eventually. It was a slow start, but it was a start, and Gonta was satisfied by the feeling of progress, however small. He still made sure to leave the library markedly later than Daisuke, lest anyone think they were actually friends.

He would then make his way to homeroom (late, of course, but some things you couldn’t change), sit through the classes he had a decent handle on, and end up in Mr. Adachi’s class at the end of the day. Now that he actually was paying attention, most of the material was as confusing as he expected, but there were times he actually understood the references being made. Mr. Adachi hadn’t pulled him aside again, but did take note that he was paying attention.

Jun and Ritsuo still tried to grab him after school, but they were a problem Gonta didn’t know how to solve yet. He missed them, he did, but he also knew that spending time with them would be too filled with temptations he couldn’t afford right now. Once the week was over and Mr. Adachi was satisfied, he would explain everything. For now though, avoiding them was the only option. At least, until the end of the fourth day, when Ritsuo grabbed him by the arm on his way out.

“Not so fuckin’ fast. You can’t avoid us forever. Where have you been these last few days?”

Gonta bit the inside of his cheek and held back the urge to shove him into Jun. “I told you. Mr. Adachi says I have to do all this extra credit or else I’m gonna fail. So I’m knocking it out as soon as possible.”

“Failing’s never bothered you before,” Jun pointed out. “You sure you haven’t left us for some other friends?”

“No man, you know I’d never ditch you guys. It’s just a one time thing, promise.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me,” Ritsuo tightened his grip on Gonta’s arm, “why you and Daisuke have been so buddy-buddy lately.”

“How did you-?”

“You should hear the nerds talk. ‘Oh, did you hear about Gokuhara? Daisuke’s been tutoring him and now they’re  _ best friends _ . Maybe I should offer to teach him and he won’t bash my face in!’”

“I needed the help, goddamnit! Let me go!” Gonta yanked his arm away and took a few steps backward.

Jun sighed and stepped in for Ritsuo. “Listen man, it’s not even about the homework. You want to study, be my guest. You want to tap those dweebs for help, be my fuckin’ guest. Just don’t leave us in the dark and look at us like the rest of them do, like you’re  _ afraid _ .”

“You guys are my friends. I’m not scared of you. I just…” Gonta fumbled for the words, “can’t be seen with you right now.”  _ Wrong words. _

“You can’t be seen with us? What the fuck man, what the fuck?”

“No, that’s not what I-”

“Ritsuo, come on man, he’s not worth it,”

“Those are the words he just said! You heard it too!”

Ritsuo was shouting and trying to charge. Jun was holding Ritsuo back but didn’t look any less angry. Gonta found himself caught between trying to defend his words with trying to defend his body, and settled on taking several steps back in silence. Those steps continued until he felt his foot slip a little on the uneven gravel. He righted his stance, turned around, and walked away.

 

The next morning Gonta came in late. He didn’t feel like studying, but figured that he should at least stick his head in the library and tell Daisuke he wouldn’t be there for the next few days. It was probably best to lay low for a while and avoid either side of the mess he had created. However, the boy wasn’t at their usual spot. Gonta shrugged and continued on his way to homeroom.

The day continued uneventfully, and he didn’t know which god to thank. Jun and Ritsuo were out of sight and no one else was giving him any trouble. No one gave Gonta Gokuhara trouble anyway thanks to his usual reputation, but word of the dispute with his friends had apparently spread and no one seemed eager to poke a bear. For Gonta, perhaps being a gentleman just meant staying out of everyone’s way so you couldn’t hurt them with your presence.

He actually made it to history early that day in his efforts not to linger too long in the hallways. He slung his bag down at his desk and pulled out the chair, when the sight of something moving made him stop. Gonta didn’t tend to keep things in his desk compartment, which meant that the dark mass sitting in the back was something foreign. He wasn’t at a good angle to see what exactly it was, but he could tell there was movement happening. Tentatively, he knelt on the ground and activated the flashlight app on his phone, vaguely aware of the handful of classmates watching him.

It was a fucking nest of caterpillars. There were dozens of them, some crawling around the cavity and escaping onto the floor, and others sticking close to the main body. The structure was still attached to a slim tree branch, which was neatly severed at the end. They were all black, writhing, hairy things that had absolutely no business being there.

“Shit!” He dropped his phone as soon as the image registered in his brain and started scrambling backwards on the floor. He took a moment to catch his breath and process what had happened when he looked down and saw one squirming across the back of his hand. “Shitshitshit!” Gonta sprang up, knocking over the chair in the process, and began wildly flailing his arm around in an effort to shake the bug off. The other students in the room were laughing now, and had formed a sort of ring to give him space to flail.

None of it registered. The only priorities were getting him and his belongings away from the caterpillars, but the one on his hand wouldn’t let go, and some were crawling on his backpack now, or maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, and he swore he could feel the same one from third grade dancing in his shirt, and

“Oh, you found them, Gokuhara!”

He looked up in response to his name and saw Daisuke pushing his way through the crowd. “Did you like my surprise?”

Aside from a boy snorting quietly, the room was silent. Gonta slowly walked over to Daisuke and stopped less than a foot in front of him, making eye contact the whole time. Then his fist was in Daisuke’s shirt and he was lifting the boy off the ground, slamming him into the wall by the collar. Something in his muscles cried out in joy,  _ yes, this is what we’re meant for, don’t let that strength go to waste _ . “Did you. Put those things. In my desk.”

Daisuke sputtered, his face registering pain and confusion and fear all at once. “Y-yeah! Since you l-like them so much!”

Gonta felt the heat rising up inside of him, and looked at the hand that was holding Daisuke, and swore he saw a flash of black movement. In an instant he dropped the boy, and then punched him right in the face.

Several things happened at once. The rest of the class let out an “Oooooohhh!” noise, and someone in the back said something about “got that on video!” Daisuke slumped to the floor, nose bloody and bent at an odd angle, and his face welling up red. Mr. Adachi also stepped into the room, which was now filled with toppled desks and chairs, shouting students, a one-sided fight scene, and a pile of black caterpillars spilling out of Gonta’s desk. Gonta himself just stood there, his fist smeared with a little blood, and an exhilaration flowing through him that he hadn’t felt in several days. It felt like everything he had been holding back suddenly exploded, and he was  _ good _ at something, and that’s what his strength was for. Then time unfroze.

Daisuke was taking several deep breaths on the floor, trying to regain his composure. He looked up at Gonta pleadingly, a deep sense of betrayal in his eyes. “I thought- you would like them- Ritsuo-”

Fucking Ritsuo. He could almost imagine the scene now, Ritsuo approaching Daisuke and thanking him for the good work he was doing for their now-mutual friend, but you know what would  _ really _ make him happy? You know what Gonta loves but keeps a secret?

Mr. Adachi was moving forward now, helping Daisuke from the floor and directing someone to take him to the nurse. He turned to the rest of the class and started ordering them to put away their phones, pick up their desks, and so on. Gonta he turned to last, and said nothing. They both knew the deal was over. There was nothing left for him to do, so Gonta wiped the blood on his pants and walked immediately home.

 

Mom wasn’t home yet, which was a relief. He had no idea what he was going to do, because Mr. Adachi was certainly going to fail him now, and probably expel him too. Just another thing Gonta couldn’t do. Instead, he deliberately tried to focus on nothing, or what was immediately present. His mother had left a sticky note on the fridge that he hadn’t noticed when he left that morning, for example. It read, “Have 2 work late. Pls record DR for me. Love you!” Right, that was something he could do at least.

He flipped on the television and navigated to the right channel, scanning ahead to the newest episode of Danganronpa that was supposed to air that night. He knew they could barely afford the DVR service, but it came with the package that included the channel Danganronpa was on, which his mother insisted on paying for. He set up the recording and was about to turn off the television when the advertisement caught his attention.

“Want to be a part of the nation’s number one reality show? Think you have what it takes to catch the culprit- or maybe outsmart the heroes? Auditions for Danganronpa are now open! For more information visit…”

Gonta thought back to the sensation he had when he first made impact with Daisuke, and how good it had made him feel. He had completely botched his chances of finishing school, or even keeping any of his friends around. It seemed that there was one thing he was good at, and one place he might be able to put it to use.

He made his way to his bedroom with a darkening resolve. There wasn’t anything left for him in the real world at this rate. The only thing that had made him feel alive was violence, and he had been in denial for so long in his attempts to be a good person. This was a place where violence was celebrated. This was a place where he could excel. And if he died, fuck, all the better at this point. There was always a prize whether you lived or died, so mom wouldn’t have to worry any more about money. Plus she would get to see her son on TV.

He went straight to the website on his computer and pulled up the application. He was thankful that he had recently turned 18, so he wouldn’t have to have his mother sign off on it. It seemed full of fairly standard stuff: biographical information, measurements for clothes, automatic consent to participate if chosen. Everyone knew they kidnapped participants and thrust them into the game unawares, so lots of the information had to be given upfront. There were also questions like greatest desires, strengths, weaknesses, and the like, which he filled out to the best of his ability. Under fears he didn’t hesitate to write “bugs.”

The last part was an audition tape, which he would record on his webcam and send as an attachment to the form. Thankfully he had the house to himself, so he wouldn’t have to whisper or worry about being interrupted. He spent a solid five minutes debating whether or not to cover the posters on his wall or to open the curtains, and decided in the end to leave everything be. There was nothing left to lose.

He hit record at an angle that captured his whole body standing awkwardly in his room, still wearing his school uniform. “My name is Gonta Gokuhara, and I’m auditioning for season 53 of Danganronpa.

“I don’t have very many talents, I’ll say that up front. I’m not smart and I’m not pretending to be either. I’m definitely not a gentleman. The one thing I can do though, is hurt. As you can see,” and he flexed his arms, partly embarrassed and partly beyond giving a crap, “I’m pretty strong. So, if you’re looking for a tough guy, or just someone to hit people, I’m your man.”

Gonta glanced at the list of suggested talking points the application had provided him. “How do I feel about murder… Look, violence is the one thing I’m good for, apparently. I just want to do something deliberately in my life, and do it well. If I kill someone, you can know that it’s something I set out to do, and won’t regret it.” He looked at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with the camera any more. “I’ve never accomplished anything with purpose… I’m just looking for a chance.” He shouldn’t have said it, and had probably screwed the whole thing up, but it didn’t matter at this point. Gonta stopped the recording, thought  _ fuck it _ , and sent it in.

 

“He seems kind of common, but we could work with him.”

“We get frustrated angry kids looking to vent their anger a dime a dozen.”

“But look at that physique! We still need a Big character this season, and he fits the bill.”

“I like his hair, too.”

“We already have a tough guy character, but maybe we could pair them together? One tall, one small.”

“It’d mess up the shorty’s character arc if we gave him a friend, though.”

“What if we just use what he already gave us? He’s not smart. He’s very strong. Let’s amplify that.”

“He’s not a gentleman, but he  _ wants _ to be. We can do that.”

“I like that! Gives him some additional drive.”

“Picture this: big, dumb, and scary. He knows this. But! Instead of embracing his true nature, he just wants to be a Nice Man. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Can we make that literal?”

 

Gonta loved bugs. They had so many legs, and sometimes wings or even hair! He thought it was so cool how some could just fly around, and others could leap incredible heights. Bugs always found a way to surprise him. One time before he had entered the woods, a kid had dropped a caterpillar down his shirt, and he gently fished it out and watched it crawl along his arm for an hour. Every day for the following week he imagined he was still playing with it, watching it make its way along his body, putting him at peace. The world was truly enhanced by their presence.

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to my roommates who got me into post-game fic for this game and inspired me to change it up and write a pre-game fic with my best boy


End file.
